


Legends Never Die

by JTWrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Gen, God is an ass, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, Past Character Death, Poetic, Short One Shot, but we been knew, can't think of any more tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:27:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25953709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JTWrites/pseuds/JTWrites
Summary: Castiel has been human for far too long.His memories are fading fast, and all he wants to do is tell whoever will listen the stories of Legends.He just needs to get the stories out there, he just wants someone to listen.Will you be that someone?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Legends Never Die

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this is the first fic i'm posting on here 'cause I actually feel very confident with it. This is a mini fic (at best) and I have another Supernatural longfic idea sizzling away in my noggin.  
> I hope you enjoy, Please feel free to comment what you think :)  
> (Yes the title is from Emperors New Clothes-Panic! At The Disco)
> 
> This is angst ridden and Cas - centric.  
> If you don't like the idea/referral to death please don't read.

Some people say the ability to know all things is the best thing in the world, could it be possible to do so. Others say money is the best thing in the world, they say it can buy you happiness - Too an extent. Some say our senses, touch, taste, sight, smell, and hearing. Those are the best things in the world.

But to Castiel it’s the ability to remember. That is the best thing in the world. It’s the fact that, due to being around for many millennia, he remembers so much history that happened that made the world what it is today. It’s the fact that you don’t even need to be there. The fact that you don’t need be a presence in someone else’s memory, for you to feel part of the story – for you to remember it as if it were your own memory.

Castiel thanks his Father for this underappreciated gift of the human mind. 

He may still only just be getting the grip of being a fallen angel, but his memory is one thing that is most precious to him. 

Besides, it’s the only thing he has, once the Polaroid pictures fade and the batteries in the technological appliances have died. It’s the only thing he has. 

So he treasures it. Makes sure anyone he comes across knows of the adventures Team Free Will went on. Makes sure strangers hear about the man with the brother who saved the world from destruction. Makes sure those strangers children know of the guardian angel who was always by their side. 

He puts as much detail as he can into those memories. The more he tells them, the longer they stay with him.

The longer he remembers how those green eyes reflected so much emotion, how those green eyes held so much beauty unimaginable to any other human. How the freckles dusted along the nose and high cheekbones rivalled with the constellations in the night sky. How those perfect lips curled around the word “awesome”, how they prayed for Castiel… How Castiel never managed to make it in time.  
He tells these people, as he tells you now, how long hair framed a sharp jaw, how it shone like a halo as sun beamed through. How thin lips responded to the profanity of “bitch”, and start off a hunt with a quick “so get this”. How the kind eyes with the colour of sunflowers could make you forgive and forget just like that. Except… Castiel never wants to forget. 

Castiel is scared. It hasn’t been that long. It’s just a few, 10-or-so-years. It hasn’t been that long. And yet, some memories are fading as quickly as an angel blade through a demon. And he’s scared.  
He no longer remembers the feeling of the two men’s arms around him as they hugged him in greeting or parting. No longer remembers the touch of worn leather against his hands as they cruised down the highway in the 67 Chevy Impala. He no longer remembers the adrenaline of if they’ll make it out of a hunt. No longer remembers what it’s like to be prayed too. 

And he is so scared. 

He will grab anyone who will listen to his broken shell of a vessel. His words jumbled, unimportant and confusing. It leads to people scoffing and pushing him away, unwilling to talk to the man in the dirty trench coat. Others throw a cent or two and keep on with their days. He doesn’t want their money, he wants their time, their eagerness to listen to his stories, his legends, his - he just needs to tell the story, tell the stories, the stories of the two legends who gave themselves up for the world. He can't keep going, not like this. He's too broken, too far gone. He can't do this anymore, it hurts too much. 

But he can't stop. Not until everyone hears.

He needs to pass down the legacy of the Winchester brothers to anyone who will listen to him, but how can he do so if he barely remembers their voices anymore. How can he do so if their words are getting muddled with each other as he forgets who said what, and when, and why, and how? How can he do so when he can’t remember what they wore, where the injuries laid on their bodies, or who’s soul left them first?

He can't keep going, he can't, he can't. He just wants to give up, to be up there in heaven again with the people who make him feel whole. But instead, he's down on earth, walking the torturous path of never ending pain, never ending trail of blood, sweat and tears.  
But he can't, he won't, stop, not now... but...

How can he pass down the legacy when he can’t even remember what it’s like to be human, let alone an angel?

It’s for that, Castiel blasphemes his Father for this unwanted curse of the human mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank You For Reading, Have A Good One.  
> ~ ET


End file.
